Workings of Emilia Moore
Emilia's Physical Emilia Moore was a woman of loose posture and short stature. A woman with no regal graces, who will fight with tooth and nail...and someone who is open for any and all forms of drinking games. With this in mind, imagining her, the image that may come up is a ratty swashbuckler with few teeth and matted hair. Below that may come a dirty appearance and torn rags. Yet, somehow, she was quite the opposite. A different image that seconds the first, is a pirate of sorts. Dressed in leather corsets, plunging necklines and drenched in gold, her silked hair whisking in the wind..yeah. She was a steady in-between. This woman was a Gilnean born girl, Lady of the Poor and the Tongue of Silver. Born out of Hearthglen and transferred to Stormwind during the Worgen outbreak, she spent a few years there before moving on...to the sea. Coming from Gilneas, she had the look of one, although she tried to conceal it when she could. Stygian curls (Sometimes she hides herself under bright orange or red hair) erupted from her scalp and traced down to her back, which were a mix of ringlets and straightened hair. This gave a look of...unique choice, and threw off her origin point a bit. A lot of Gilneans had straight hair that stayed flat against their back. Her hair had a bit of volume with the rings, and naturally thick by the look of it. If you were close enough, it may radiate the scent of vanilla. Her face was rather angular, home to high cheekbones and slim jawlines. With the two combined, they resembled a youthful face full of mystery! The slim jawline that she had led into a pointed chin that gave her the slightest hint of regal elegance. Her eyebrows were the same shade of black as her hair, and they were rightly proportioned with an eyebrow pencil. Under her brows were blue eyes that were bright enough to blind someone who looked for too long. Emily's nose was slender and a bit crooked. It appeared that she had been in a fight or two in her time, as it has healed from being broken multiple times. Under her slender, crooked nose was a thin mouth, small in width that was usually graced with no form of gloss, or stick. A side note would be her ears. One was normal, a bit small, and the other one was torn...scarred. Her neck was slender, although a bit long. It held her head high through the worst times, and led into her shoulder blades that were a bit feminine, a bit built for a swordsman. These shoulders held up the weight of many worlds, and many lives. Not really, but sometimes it managed to feel that way. Most understand the feeling. The shoulders let into her arms which were muscled for such a small woman. Her body was designed to be a fighter, not a woman who sat by and clapped. Although she retained the basic feminine features for a woman, she was mostly toned for the fact of exercise and combat. Hands that were scarred with callouses and years of wear were often tapping something in an effort to keep herself moving at all times. Mostly annoying to others, she found as of late that she could be a drummer with the beats that are displayed. Her fingers were long, and slender. Each finger was capped by a nail. Just short enough not to be an issue. Painted black, like her hair, she managed to look a bit fancy! Her torso was something of a fit woman. B-cups shadowed a four-pack tiled stomach of muscle that reinforced her healthy state. It was not well defined, but if you looked it wouldn’t be hard to see. Her back had a certain arch. This arch showed off her tail end, which stuck out a bit. Mostly due to the strenuous workouts she performs four days a week. Her legs were probably the best part about her, and to be frank they were long. Long legs that she had were muscled and made up much of her height. Muscled thighs rested above the knee, and below were well rounded calves that were muscle caches. Feet that supported her standing were boney to an extent, but calloused heels and toes showed that she didn’t always wear shoes. The overall tone of her body was a bit dark for a Gilnean, and that was shown by the tan features that she had. Mostly because she spent a lot of time in the open sea, and that was due to the fact that she was a ‘pirate’ of sorts...and it gave her a bit of an odd look, as most with her features, ( Gilnean ), are pale. Her makeup was usually present, as it did nothing but help. Eyeliner around those blue eyes, tanned foundation, concealer, and curled eyelashes allow the woman to appear prettier than she is! She looks good in this makeup, but she looks alright without it as well. Emilia's Gear As most ship-inhabitants do, Emily Moore wears protective clothing with a hint of seduction. Most of the time she can be seen wearing a little bit of something that is either extremely tight, or something that is showing off her body. However, she may simply choose to completely lather herself in armor. A good fighter, nonetheless. What could generally make up her armor is a set of shoulder pads, usually clasped on with buckles and straps that fit her snugly. Her chest piece was usually the same material as her shoulderpads, of course, which was followed by a tightly cinched belt. The belt she had supported leather leggings, followed by boots that fit her feet perfectly. Sometimes the woman is equipped with some sort of head accessory, whether it be an eyepatch or a headband..maybe even a bandana. Mostly, however, her face was free to the public. She had no shame in showing it, and she was not wanted by the law for any reason. Why hide such a thing? Of course, protective masks were not out of the question. Her chest piece usually consisted of a questionable neckline, yet sometimes she found herself bound to the throat in armor. It depends on the mood, the weather, and the reason. Like most of her armor and weapons, after all. Along with, they all had to match. Matching is an important part to every display. Equipped with a cloak that concealed some of her weaponry and fended off the elements. It most definitely matched the rest of her attire and reached around to her hips in order to keep her weapons hidden, which were usually on her back or sides. It was a pleasant way to not alarm citizens with innocent natures. Emily’s weapons were a mix of items that she had learned to use over her years of life. About twenty five or so years to be exact. Usually found with an assortment of blades, she preferred edged weapons over anything else. That means that she was found with swords, daggers, knives..you name it. Usually one for each palm, she let herself stay equipped and ready for combat. As far as actual proportions go, the blades are weighted differently to allow her opportunities. Mostly, one blade would be to parry attacks while the other would be built for attacking. An offence-defence system that lengthens her life span. Whether it be daggers, or swords, or a dagger and sword. Emily’s boots are equipped with knives that are set on a mechanism that extends them from the sole of their body, with a button to click on the back of her heel, they shoot out about four inches. Very tactful and versatile, these weaponized boots have saved her life numerous times. Good for kicking Gnomes, too. Her gloves, the fingertips, held steel points. Rather short, not the sharpest, but a lot more useful than leather fingers. A four finger jab to the throat may be a lot more than a pain..more of a death sentence. Careful, fighting her. She is a very versatile figure as far as combat goes. Traits and Information Emily Moore was a woman of direct pointing and blunt information. She was not afraid to make it clear that you’re annoying unless she truly does not want to hurt you, but most of the time, she wants to hurt you. She did have a certain way with words at times, and that let her snake through some situations. Most of the time, though, she was rightfully annoying and sometimes even unpleasant to be around. Although, if you buy her a few drinks and treat her like you want to sleep with her (not literally), she may just be nice to you! Naturally rude, as mentioned, she has no remorse for most things in life. Secondly, she had a strange liking to animals. They’re loyal and more intelligent than half the people that she knows. Emily would rather have a pet dog than some elven man trying to slip into her clothing. If you’re a worgen, chances are she’s going to be nice to you. Might even give you a pat on the head. If you manage to get on her good side, however, expect to find a sarcastic but loyal woman who would do almost anything to remain your friend, and even more so, to keep you alive and well. She’d probably take an arrow or fifteen lashes for you. Loyalty is unrivaled when you compare her to anything else. It is one of the most important traits anything could ever have. Although the woman may not dress like it at times, she is actually very much a prude. If you were to try womanizing her, or take her on a date, she’d probably stab you...okay, maybe not stab you, but rejection is going to be common unless she likes you for whatever reason. If she does like you...feel special. Understand why you should feel special. Her spirit is a bit fiery, though. Often down to throw a few punches with someone, often down to play drinking games, she is a woman of natural selection. A versatile survivalist that remains a lone wolf until she needs a shield. Emily Moore is manipulative as well, and sometimes you won’t even know it until after you’ve died for her. Speaking of fire, she was a wonderful cook. Often times, she learned from this man that she used to know in Gilneas, how to make an assortment of meats, preparing them and cooking them with the talent of a chef. Outside of Stag flanks, though, she isn’t much help when it comes to making a meal. General intelligence...she doesn’t have a lot. If an argument gets heated she will resort to fighting before she thinks of a clever comeback. Mostly because she’s wrong in most arguments, but either way..that doesn’t stop her from throwing a punch...you’ll also find her with a flask of whiskey at most turns. It’s her favorite, and she couldn’t go a day without it. Alcohol is the only thing that has prevented her from turning into a muscled tank of a woman. Emilia's History “Death be but a guise t’ th’ head, Emily!” “Y’ don’ know tha’! As far as I’m concerned, y’ ain’t got no good reason for sayin’ tha’! So jus’ don’, yeah?” “Emily. You be a blind little girl. Ye’ ever been on a ship before?” “Girl? Phah! I’m pre’y sure ‘m a woman, thank y’. I’ve also been on plen’y o’ ships, so you mind y’ tongue, you.” The Captain of Sorrow Singe merely shook his head, the floppy canvas of his Admiral’s hat shaking in a frivolous manner. Emily peered at the man as he wheeled his coated back to her, and began to stalk away. “Y’ know. All these men seem pre’y prodigal t’ me, mate!” He did not answer. Silence took hold, a distinct grasp on the deck of the ship, asides from the great mass of pirates that went about their business. Emily began to saunter towards the netting that scaled up to the look-out position upon their ship, and began to climb. The thin girl dug her leather-clad fists into the tethered ropes, kicking herself upwards with each slot that her foot found until she was pulling herself over the edge, to be met with the face of a dwarf, covered in brazen leather. His first reaction would be to lift the bushy eyebrows that rested below the striking blue colour of his gaze. Then the white in his eyes expanded as the tan eyelids peeled backwards to take in Emily’s figure. She was not particularly striking, of course. A rugged woman. She reigned from Gilneas! The only reason that she’s tan is from her assimilation of Brightcast sun and the affinity of water travel. She had muscle, but it was bare minimum, simply moving to cover her bones- that was all, really. If it weren’t for her pavement of thin muscle, the woman would practically look like a skeleton. Emily slowly moved to kneel in front of the dwarven figure, and when she parted her lips to speak out in a vanilla scented tone, the woman was grabbed. Certainly not uncommon- dwarves were angry people. The man had reached his stubby fingers backwards to grasp at her ebon pony-tail. She paused, blinking at the bearded man who was roughly two feet under her, in height. “Ye’ don’t boo doown ta’ mee, girlie. Ah’m jus’ as capable of lookin’ up as ye’ are lookin’ doown.” Emily simply nodded her head- or, tried to, detained by the rough grip on her pony tail. The woman liked it rough, but..now was not the time. Slowly, she moved to stand once more upon the weakened grasp of the man, and she offered him a kindling smile before attempting to speak once more. “Y’ see anythin’? Or are y’ jus’ star gazin’?” “Me business nae be yours, y’ cocky git.” His tone; that of someone who was truly angry at heart, was more cold than the frosted aura of a Pale knight. Emily had decided that it was not quite a great idea to continue conversation with the man, and so..she was silent. This forced repose was not something to take pleasure in, of course. Her gray eyes had moved upwards to peer into the night sky, biting down on the lower half of her lip in contemplation. The meaning of life? Not important...what was she going to eat tomorrow? There was one bad thing about being stuck on the ship-there are many negatives, actually-was the food. There is nothing worse than soggy-by-salt-water bread, surrounding dry meat that was more cold than the night air. However, the air didn’t chill her to the bone. It was to a note that she was clad; neck to toe in thick leather armour. They’d be docking tomorrow off the shore of the Swamp of Sorrows. There, a temple was hidden amongst the vines and trees, buried under mud. However, what took home under, was something completely different. An evil force...so she wore armour! Usually, there would be a mask tightened around the lower half of her face, but she wanted to breathe different, for once. So the tied mask had been loosely sitting above her bosom, against the hollow of her chest. The night was silent. Asides from the crashing of waves against the hull of her great ship, a single vessel stolen, from the great Armada of Ver’vara. A gang that hid in the secluded areas of Northrend. Oh, where her travels had taken her. Once a pale girl stealing bread from the Lords of Gilneas and blaming it on her brother, Adam; she had now positioned herself into a new tone of life which provided for a more exciting use of her time. This was only true to a certain extent, however. Of course, her options were limited upon some things, as the usage of coin was sparse, and it was a fact that she was no one of a noble name. “Y’got lookout tomorrow, Emily.” Emily slowly raised her darkly shaded eyebrow, in an inquisitive gesture as she moved to reply to the man’s words, as a conversation began to sprout once more. “Is tha’ true, love? Oh, wot a’ joy tha’ is..i’m goin’ t’ need m’ eyepatch!” “What ye’ need th’ eyepatch for? Y’gotta see, no’ be more blind than ye already are, aye?” “Rookie, eh? Eyepatch for night vision. Y’ keep it over y’ eye in th’ day so y’ got easy vision a’ night.” The dwarf muttered a handful of curses, shaking his head in disappointment as he moved around the thick log of sanded wood that held the lookout position up. Emily offered a lazy roll of her shoulders in return to the man’s actions, and reserved the act of giggling at the sway of his lightly coloured ashen beard to which moved upon the shuffle of his stubby legs. Peering back forwards towards the stars, she could not resist the temptation of letting a smile crack through her stone features. Peering towards the largest, and brightest star...she lost herself in it’s brilliance. Lured in by a false seduction of hope. All she could see was the star they traveled by...and suddenly, the world blurred, and wind was rushing against her figure. Had she fallen? Did she stumble over the waist-high fencing of wood? Was she going to die, here?...and then, wet. No breath, and darkness. She was sinking, and the heavy set of gear on her did not help. She had fallen into the ocean, and that was easy to tell by the taste of salt water that filled her mouth. Grunting in effort, she moved her hands up to work the straps of her shoulderguards, pulling the leather pauldrons away from her figure and watching them sink away, into the darkness. Then she began to unlace the front of her jerkin, stretching the middle open and pulling it away from her figure as well, and undid the weapon’s belt she had, which caused the leggings she wore to peel away from her figure. Stuck..stuck. Pulling! Her boots were still tied, and the pants could not escape. Reaching down, spiraling head first downwards now as she attempted to tear the items away. Bubbles erupted from her throat, forcing her lips apart and letting her lungs burn as if coated in flame. Her eyes were wide with pain- only making it worse as the salt plugged into her cornea. At last, the boots slipped from her heel, and the entire set of armour fell away, except the mask that she wore around her neck. Dragging herself upwards, she swam. Kicking feet after each other and throwing her splayed hands towards the sky as she moved herself upright. Darkness, turning to an abyss. No breath, can’t see...something was causing ripples on the surface, but she wouldn’t know. Soon, her mind was at peace, and those grey eyes slowly began to close. Only then did she see a shape, as if closing her eyes had made things more clear. It was seemingly a dwarf, perhaps one she knew. Swimming against the weight of an air-lifter. Her eyes had at last closed, however..and only then did he wrap the thick item around her bare waist, making sure to let his eyes wander over her body for a moment as she floated back up towards the surface, to which he closely followed. She was already unconscious, despite his best efforts towards her. Out of Character Information As far as conversation goes Out of Character, I am a rather calm person. Like my character, if you’re to befriend me, chances are i’ll be one of your best friends. Now, I would hate for you to think of that as I’m ‘trying to get close’ to you, or ‘copying’ you, because I am doing neither of those things. Truthfully, I just want to be your friend..nothing more. I’ve had some questions about my age and gender, and I must say..that kind of makes me uncomfortable. Why is it important to any of you whether i’m five years old or fifty years old? Neither of those ages are accurate, by the way. If you ask for these things, and we are not close friends, you may find yourself walking into my ignored list. Sorry, but it’s rather intrusive. While my character has the possibility of being rude, that is much like myself. If you provoke me, or I..happen to think, or feel threatened, I may become angry. Trust me, though..you wouldn’t like me when i’m angry. Hah. Get it? Beca--yeah. Overall, though, I’m a pretty kind person. If you want to add me on battletag, go ahead! Fair warning, though, my broadcasts can be a bit annoying. If you’ve made it this far and bothered to actually read everything, you already deserve an applauding that would ring out for the ages. I know reading profiles can be boring, but I am happy that you took the time to read this. Unless you skipped to the very bottom. If that is the case, well..you deserve no claps! Maybe like. On the ears? I don’t know, but you are not a good sport! If you’re going to be involved with my character, get to know her! As far as post length goes, it entirely depends on the time of day, and my mood. If I’m happy and not tired, and it’s nice out, chances are I’ll be writing three to five blocks every other post. If it’s the opposite..expect one liners and poor dialogue. I just wouldn’t have it in me to be productive. Okay. That’s everything I have to say for now. If you don’t agree with something, or you happen to find errors in my work, please, I beg of you to message me about it. I am always open for improvement because I know I need a lot of it, and I hope that you message me even if you see nothing, because I sure love friends!..in a friend way. Friendly love.